


The Darkest Truths

by MalecCrazedAuthor



Series: One Easy Answer [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Background Clary Fray/Simon Lewis, Background Luke Garroway/Maryse Lightwood, Background Maia Roberts/Jace Wayland, Background Raphael Santiago/Isabelle Lightwood, Grief/Mourning, Immortality, Infanticide, M/M, Murder, lots of happy stuff like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-09 14:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecCrazedAuthor/pseuds/MalecCrazedAuthor
Summary: In the wake of Dot's death, Max's murder, and Robert's betrayal, Alec and Magnus and the Lightwood family try to find a new normal. But the wish Izzy made to Raziel on the shores of Lake Lyn is a dangerous secret that too many people know, and Alec isn't certain he came back to life the same as he'd been before.Meanwhile, as Alec awaits the fallout from his ultimatum to the Clave, Magnus and the other leaders of the Downworld factions try to work around the terms of the Seelie Queen's deal with the warlocks and werewolves to build a lasting peace between the Downworld and the New York Institute.**For the time being, this fic will be updated once a week, on Monday.I'll be tracking the tag #TDTfic on Twitter if you want to tweet about it. Or you can @ me. @MalecCrazedAthr





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: If you haven't read the _One Easy Answer_ series so far, please be advised that this story is not standalone, and without reading the other stories you will be missing crucial context.
> 
> I've spent the last two hours trying to sum up the things you need to know going into this story, and there are too many moving pieces, and deviations from canon (great and small) to do so with any concision. Most relevant, I suppose, would be the fact that Alec was with Clary on the shores of Lake Lyn and was killed by Valentine. Izzy arrived and made the wish to Raziel to bring him back, but so far no one except Magnus and Izzy know what happened.
> 
> Max was killed protecting Madzie from Jonathan, who infiltrated the Institute not only as Sebastian but also as Aldertree.
> 
> Robert Lightwood was blackmailed into aiding Valentine in escaping from the Clave, but was discovered and apprehended and is now awaiting his punishment.
> 
> The Seelie Queen's demands have jeopardized the alliance Alec and Magnus have been trying to forge between the Downworld factions and the New York Institute. The Inquisitor's obstruction of Alec's attempts to preserve relations with the Downworld resulted in Alec threatening to reject Clave authority over the Institute entirely.
> 
> Alec and Magnus are married. The marriage started as a political alliance, but quickly became personal. It's still only a few weeks after their wedding, however, and they're still working on finding their feet.
> 
> Seriously, though? There are a lot of moving pieces I can't summarize here. I highly recommend you read the first two parts before getting into this.

Alec awoke with a gasp and shot upright in bed. His chest heaved and oily sweat slithered off his shoulders and down his spine to further dampen the sheets. He immediately turned to check if he’d disturbed Magnus, only to find his husband wasn’t in bed beside him.

A sliver of bright daylight shone through the heavy curtains on the windows, which had been open when they’d fallen asleep last night.

The clock read 9:02 am.

“Right on schedule,” Magnus drawled from a nearby chair, where he sat with a cup of tea. “3 AM, at least in New York. The witching hour, according to historical European folklore. These days, most people assume that phrase refers to midnight, but I’ve always been a traditionalist for these sorts of things.”

“What do you mean, right on schedule?” Alec muttered, rubbing his eyes. His voice was slurry with disorientation and a bone-deep weariness that even a week of being able to sleep whenever he wanted, for however long he wanted, hadn’t been able to cure.

Magnus twiddled with his earcuff. “I mean, adjusting for portal-lag and all that, you’ve been having nightmares around this time for at least the last five days. Possibly before that as well, but I may have been too sleep-deprived myself to notice.”

Alec covered a yawn and flopped back down into the bedding. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I’d been disturbing you.”

“Ah. Well.” Magnus ducked his head, suddenly looking sheepish. “It’s possible I haven’t been sleeping soundly either.”

Alec sat back up, his gaze sharpening. He took in the way Magnus was curled into a tight ball in his chair, silk dressing gown wound tightly around him instead of hanging open in sexy _déshabillé_. Magnus clutched his teacup like it possessed protective enchantments.

Alec sighed, swallowing down his dread to ask the necessary question. “Lake Lyn?”

It was their fourth morning in this isolated chalet in the Swiss Alps. They’d started their somewhat belated honeymoon in Paris but quickly decided another large city—even one as entrancing as Paris—was the last thing they needed to recuperate from the strain and trauma of recent events.

For four days, they hadn’t seen another soul. They’d cooked intimate meals together, slept whenever they wanted, and made love on just about every horizontal surface they could find and a few they’d had to improvise. They’d even played in the snow.

It had been wonderful. They’d shut out of rest of the world and existed in a space of just the two of them, without interruptions or distractions. They’d focused on strengthening the connection they felt, the nascent, albeit improbable, love that was blooming between them.

Dammit. They should be feeling _more_ settled by now, not less.

Shouldn’t they?

“It’s to be expected,” Magnus said with an airy wave of his hand, but his smile was a brittle thing, the fragility it tried to mask glaringly obvious.

“Don’t do that,” Alec said softly. “Magnus—”

“What should I say, Alexander?” Magnus asked with a watery chuckle, his shoulders slumping. “That the sight of you lying on that shore with a crossbow bolt sticking out of your chest will give me nightmares for decades, possibly even centuries? That’s simply belaboring an obvious point. Besides, I thought we were discussing _your_ nightmares.”

“Not much to discuss.” Alec shrugged at the dubious eyebrow Magnus lifted. “No, I mean, I can’t remember the dream. Just…impressions.”

He closed his eyes and tried to grasp the ephemeral memories. “Darkness. Blood, I think. People chanting in a language I can’t recognize—or maybe it’s just distorted. There’s a baby crying, but then he stops and a woman starts crying instead. The worst part is…” He pressed a hand to his forehead as though he could squeeze slivers of recollection into a shape that would make sense. “…everyone I love is suffering, and I know it’s because of me.”

“Because of you how?” Magnus asked, a bit of snap to his tone. It was enough to draw Alec’s eyes to him, but his expression offered Alec nothing.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alec asked tiredly. “It has to be about Max, right? The baby whose cries go silent? That’s Max in my mind, some of the time. Not the preteen who died in the catacombs that night, but the baby brother we never expected and all fell in love with. The one I used to get up at night and soothe so Mom could sleep a little more, if I could reach him before she woke up. The woman mourning him, that would be my mom. Or Izzy. Maybe both? And it’s my fault they’re hurting.”

“Alec—”

He hung his head and sighed. “I didn’t vet Sebastian thoroughly enough, and my family paid the price.”

“No. _No_.” He heard the rustle as Magnus uncurled from his chair and crossed to the bed. The mattress beside him sank, and Magnus’s hands gripped both of Alec’s. “You did everything you possibly could, and then some. That he managed to infiltrate the Institute despite your efforts just goes to show how many steps ahead of _everyone_ he and Valentine were. It’s not your fault.”

“Right.” He couldn’t neutralize the derision that dripped like acid from that single word. He eased his hands out of Magnus’s and threw back the covers. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Alexander—” Magnus started, then fell silent. Alec took the opportunity to pretend he believed that meant Magnus had changed his mind about trying to call him back and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Safely alone, he started the shower and then stood holding the edge of the sink basin with a white-knuckled grip. The sense of unreality, of _wrongness_ , that he’d been experiencing on and off in the six days since their lethal confrontation with Valentine Morgenstern on the shore of Lake Lyn was back, as strong as it had ever been. Sometimes he was sure he was fine, that he was getting past whatever this… _reaction_ to all the recent turmoil was.

And sometimes he woke up convinced he’d find Magnus’s blood all over his hands, like Jocelyn Fairchild’s.

That was the part of the dream he _didn’t_ tell Magnus.

As clouds of steam filled the bathroom, Alec searched his own eyes in the mirror, half-certain that if he looked hard enough, they’d darken and glint like polished obsidian, the way they had when he’d looked up at the surveillance camera seconds after pulverizing Jocelyn’s heart. But they were simply his eyes, puffy and bloodshot with fractured rest, but _his_ nonetheless. Pushing away from the sink, Alec shook his head as though he could banish the lingering sense of strangeness with a gesture, and stepped into the shower.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, he _was_ feeling more like himself. Enough so that he could feel genuine chagrin over his behavior as he knelt beside the chair where Magnus sat, applying his makeup, even though there was no one but the two of them for fifty kilometers.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, kissing Magnus’s silk-covered shoulder before resting his chin on the arm of the chair. “I woke up in a terrible mood. I…I think I’m still reeling from…everything. But we’re supposed to be getting away from all that, enjoying our time together. Sorry to spoil it.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Alexander,” Magnus said with a sigh. He set aside his eyeliner and stroked Alec’s damp hair. “Everything that’s happened…it’s bound to have an impact. I just wish I knew if it was grief and trauma—” He sucked in a deep breath, as though bracing himself “—or if it’s…”

Magnus pulled his hand away from Alec’s head as his voice trailed off. He clenched his fists in his lap, frowning down at them.

“…just me being my usual grumpy bastard self?” Alec asked wryly, reluctant on some gut-deep level to let Magnus finish the thought in his own words.

“That’s not what I was going to say at all,” Magnus said with another sigh. “And it’s not true, at any rate. I—”

“Plenty of people at the Institute would disagree with you,” Alec shot back. “Just ask Clary.”

Magnus smiled, shaking his head helplessly. “You’re not grumpy. You’re—you’re a hedgehog. You’re sweet and gentle. The pricks and barbs are just self-defense.”

Alec flicked a glance up at Magnus through his eyelashes. “But you like my prick.”

Magnus’s laugh was like a burst of sunlight. “Horrid innuendo will not get you laid, Alexander Lightwood-Bane.”

Alec grinned. “Then explain all the bad come-ons the night we met.”

“I beg your pardon!” Magnus sniffed. “I resent the comparison. My innuendo, like my liquor, is strictly top-shelf.”

“Right,” Alec agreed with a roll of his eyes before Magnus leaned over to kiss him. Alec curled a hand around the back of Magnus’s neck and held him there, pushing up into the kiss, deepening it. Eyeliner forgotten, Magnus shifted out of his chair at the vanity table and straddled Alec’s lap, somehow never fully breaking contact with Alec’s mouth. His arms slid around Alec’s shoulders and Alec shoved the sides of the sapphire silk dressing gown open, eager to get at all that warm, bare skin.

The deep rug was soft beneath him, and still Magnus’s weight on him awoke twinges of the best possible sort, bringing back memories the night before, of leaning over the side of the deep, two-person bathtub. Magnus had been curled over his back, arms caging Alec in, lather gliding down their skin as he moved…

Alec groaned and wrenched Magnus in closer, falling back onto the rug. Then he rolled, settling between his thighs as he stared down at Magnus, half made-up and framed by a twisted spill of blue silk.

Alec chuckled at the image he displayed.

“I may be a hedgehog, but you’re a peacock,” he murmured, plucking at the iridescent fabric.

Magnus smiled a little strangely. “Ah, but a peacock’s feathers are to attract a mate, not for defense. So, mission accomplished, I suppose?”

“Nah, with you it’s definitely armor,” Alec observed, then kissed the frown away from his mouth before whatever thought was troubling Magnus had time to take root and sprout into a decidedly unsexy conversation.

Whatever it took to keep Magnus from saying what he’d been trying to work himself up to for days.

* * *

After making love on the rug, they went back to bed. They both needed another shower, sweaty and sticky and smelling of musk as they were, but Alec seemed too sated to care and Magnus…

…Magnus had allowed this to go on long enough. Too long, really.

“Are you done trying to distract me?” he asked, tracing the furry ridges of Alec’s abs with one fingertip.

Alec went still against him. “Distract you? What? No, I was—” He broke off with a sigh. “Whatever it is, this thing you’ve been struggling to tell me for days, this conversation we need to have, I don’t want to do it. Not yet.”

“It’s not like you to hide from unpalatable truths,” Magnus said, exhaling slowly. “You tend to rip the bandage right off. I know why I’m dreading the discussion, but why are you?”

Alec’s hand rose and flopped back onto the bed with a helpless gesture. “ _Because_ you’re dreading it, I guess? Or maybe—I don’t know. I feel like I did a couple weeks ago, when I knew you were holding something back about Dot but I didn’t know what. And once I did know, I sort of wished I didn’t. At least this time I can’t blame you for lying to me, not when I’m the one who keeps preventing you from saying it.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Magnus muttered, pulling out of Alec’s arms. He sat up, pulling the covers around his hips because he was entirely too naked for this conversation. “Alexander, I—”

The sizzling crackle of burning paper reached their ears, and they looked up in concert to see a scrap of parchment forming itself from flames above their heads. Alec reached up and plucked it out of the air, waiting until it was whole before scanning the words on it.

“Dammit.” He hissed between his teeth. “I’m being summoned to Alicante.”

Fear clamped around Magnus’s lungs like an icy vise. “Summoned? What for?”

“It doesn’t say.” Alec rubbed his forehead. “Could be anything. Maybe my dad’s trial has been moved ahead of schedule, or maybe—” His breath hitched a little. “Or maybe I’m being called to account for my insubordination toward Inquisitor Herondale and threatening to take the whole Institute into rebellion with me.”

“That’s certainly possible,” Magnus said, frowning. “I had wondered if her unexpected reacquisition of a soul was a permanent state of affairs.”

“It doesn’t make sense, though. She asked Mom to be her successor, which would seem to indicate her change of heart was long-term. Why would she come after me now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not comfortable with you entering Idris with the question outstanding,” Magnus said grimly. “To begin with, there’s some question as to whether or not, having declared your intention to operate independently from the Clave’s control, they have the authority to demand your presence. But more importantly, anywhere else in the world, the Clave would have to come to you on ground you’d chosen for the meeting. You could have contingencies mapped out if they were spoiling for a confrontation, an escape plan in place if things went badly. In Alicante, you’ll be surrounded by their people. If they try to arrest you, even I might not be able to get you out of there.”

“Which are excellent reasons to refuse the summons,” Alec said. “Unfortunately, if we’re wrong, it’ll create the exact issue we want to avoid. I made it clear to Inquisitor Herondale that I would only break with the Clave completely if they kept preventing us from doing our duty before the Angel. I’m not interested in leading a rebellion, Magnus, I just want to be left the hell alone to do my job. So when Mom agreed to be the next Inquisitor, she asked me to keep things where they were for now, to give her time to enact reforms in the Clave’s treatment of Downworlders and the sort of oversight they exercise in local affairs of the Institutes.”

Magnus stiffened. “You didn’t tell me she’d asked you to do that.”

“Only because I was trying not to talk shop while we were on holiday,” Alec said, laying a hand on Magnus’s arm. “Once we got back, I had every intention of asking your opinion about it.”

That was fair enough. Magnus let some of his tension drain away. “What’s _your_ opinion about it?”

Alec shrugged. “I’m not sure how much it matters what my opinion is. I made it clear in front of multiple Downworld representatives—and half of Manhattan—that if the Clave was going to keep us from doing our duty, the Institute would break with Alicante. I can’t backpedal or I’ll lose any trust I’ve managed to earn from the Downworld.”

“I’m more interested in how you feel about it than in what your reasons for agreeing or refusing are,” Magnus said softly. “What would you think if you didn’t have to worry about preserving relations with the Downworld?”

“I think… I think if Mom and Consul Penhallow can get on board with my peace initiatives, or at the very least make sure the Clave doesn’t interfere with us, the Clave would make a much better ally than an enemy. I think I’ll be better positioned to defend the city and the Institute’s Downworld allies with the Clave’s resources.” Alec sighed, massaging the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s one thing to tell the Clave to butt out, but that could also mean cutting us off from their support as well.”

Magnus frowned. “No more reinforcements to replace Shadowhunters lost in battle, you mean.”

“That’s just the beginning,” Alec replied, giving him a direct look. “If I have to go all the way with this, sooner or later we’ll find ourselves locked out of our systems, maybe even out of the Institute itself. We’d have to leave the premises—which are Clave property—and start our own Institute from scratch. No equipment. No access to the Clave’s communications and infrastructure. No funds to pay your warlocks for portals and wards. No satellite tracking of demon incursions or access to Clave R&D. No shipments of steles and weapons from the Adamant Citadel. No Silent Brothers or Iron Sisters to oversee important rites. All of that would be gone, and I’m just not sure how effective we’ll be without it. And that’s without considering that I might just end up provoking some of my own Shadowhunters to abandon us or revolt against me.”

Alec hung his head. “Let’s face it. Breaking with the Clave is an idealistic step rather than a practical one. It’s great for proving to the Downworld that I mean what I say, but it’s not very tenable in the long run. And in the worst case scenario, I could be seen as the next Valentine, building my own cadre of followers in open rebellion.”

“I doubt your mother will ever let it get to that point, and it sounds like Consul Penhallow may be somewhat reasonable.” Magnus laid a hand on top of Alec’s as he considered all the facts Alec had just laid before him, half of which had never occurred to him. “Do you regret what you did?”

“No.” Alec lifted his head and met Magnus’s eyes levelly. “I may go into a state of minor panic when I stop to think about the practicalities, but I did what I had to do and I have no intention of second-guessing that. And all these considerations, the idea that we _can’t_ function without the Clave, that’s really what institutions and governments like the Clave rely on, isn’t it? That we’ll be so dependent on the perks of the _status quo_ , we’ll tolerate anything to avoid being cut off from them?” He drew a deep breath, shuddered a little, then nodded once, firmly. “No, I’m not walking it back. Not even because my mom asked me to. If the Clave decides to play chicken with me on this, they’re gonna lose.”

Magnus swallowed against the lump in his throat, against the warm surge of pride in his chest that this remarkable, brave man was his husband. “Then what do you intend to do about this summons?” he asked, his voice a little raspy.

“I intend to accept it.” Alec lifted his chin. “If it comes to that, I intend to stand before the Clave and let them know that I have no interest in fighting them, I just want them to stay out of our way while we try to secure peace in New York. And I will happily take the offer of an alliance with the Clave to the Brooklyn Shadow-World Council _if_ the Clave enacts reforms in their treatment of Downworlders and their handling of Downworld affairs. No more torture. No more extrajudicial executions. No more talk of DNA profiling and tracking chips, or policies of collective punishment, threatening entire clans and packs with extermination for the misdeeds of a single rogue.”

“I’ll stand there beside you,” Magnus promised. “If they arrest you, they arrest us both. I don’t think the Clave really wants to court the wrath of the Spiral Labyrinth by arresting me. They might find their portal destinations suddenly becoming…unpredictable.”

Alec chuckled, then drew a deep breath. “Well, I suppose if I’m facing up to things today, there’s no more putting it off. What is it you’ve been trying to say?”

Magnus opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap.

“I don’t think I should tell you just now, Alexander,” he said with a heavy sigh, drawing away.

“What?” Alec scoffed in disbelief and confusion. “Why not? You were ready ten minutes ago.”

“That was before I knew you were going to Alicante,” Magnus replied, glancing down at his hands. His nail polish had begun to chip while they’d been locked away from the world and he hadn’t even noticed. Now, that chip garnered his intense scrutiny. He rubbed at it absently, picking through his options.

“Why should that matter?”

“Because I don’t know if the Clave has recovered the Soul Sword from Lake Lyn. Or they might have commissioned something similar from the Iron Sisters, or perhaps they even intend to have the Silent Brothers probe your memories. Alec—” He watched his own hand reach out and grasp Alec’s. “Please believe me that this is about our safety. Yours. Mine. Even your family’s.”

“My family?”

Magnus nodded. Specifically, Isabelle was the member of Alec’s family in the most jeopardy, but he couldn’t say that for the same reason he couldn’t say anything else. Even though Magnus was still irritated with her for forcing him into the role of co-conspirator, it would destroy Alec if anything happened to her.

Alec blinked. “It’s that bad?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I have no frame of reference, no—no _precedent_ for how the Clave might react, if they should become aware of this. But knowing the Clave as I do, I fear that, yes, this could be extraordinarily dangerous for all of us. They can’t compel the truth from me, but they can from you. I swear to you, I wouldn’t withhold it otherwise.”

“For how long?” Alec snapped, his beautiful mouth tight with annoyance.

“Until we return from Alicante. Once we’re home, I’ll tell you everything.”

Alec’s jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles flexing under a week’s worth of stubble. “Fine,” he gritted.

“Thank you, Alexander. I know that after what I did with Dot, you probably are having a hard time making yourself trust me on this.”

“If it were just my safety at stake, I wouldn’t agree. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Magnus said, nodding sadly. “I…I honestly wish I had told you before, that I hadn’t let you steer me away from it all week. It was my own cowardice that permitted it.”

Alec deflated. “Mine too, so I guess I can’t blame you for that. I just—I wanted this time for us, before it all went to hell again.”

“As did I.” Magnus laced his fingers with Alec’s, taking a moment to admire the ring on Alec’s finger. The sight of it, that visual confirmation of their marriage, their commitment, made his chest tight with emotion. “There is one more thing, though.”

Alec’s eyes were so wary, so ready for frustration and disappointment, that Magnus almost— _almost_ —backtracked on making the request. It wasn’t right to ask Alec to extend him any more trust right now. And yet the stakes were too high, the potential fallout simply too unknown.

So he tightened his fingers on Alec’s, drew a deep breath, and made himself speak. “I want your permission to remove your memory of this conversation.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus return to Idris to answer the summons.
> 
> If you want to comment on Twitter, use the hashtag #TDTFic

The Lightwood manor house in Alicante was…imposing, in that pristine, unimaginative way much of Alicante’s architecture tended to be. While aesthetically beautiful, there was a sterility to the city that Magnus had never cared for. Even the greenery was meticulous, as though the architects in the Time of Angels had wanted to emphasize their angelic heritage so strongly that they’d forgotten the place was meant to be inhabited by actual people.

Alec was quiet beside him as they walked up the path to the massive doors. He’d agreed to Magnus’s request, on the condition that his memories be restored the moment they returned home. Now there was no chance that even the fact that there was something Magnus was hiding from Alec and the Clave could be compelled from him by the Silent Brothers or under questioning with the Soul Sword. However, as was often the case with spells affecting memory, some of the underlying emotions that accompanied the memory remained. Unfocused frustration and mistrust had made for a very tense morning between them as they collected what few belongings they had taken with them or acquired in Paris and Switzerland.

Alec’s confusion and wariness called to mind the young man Magnus had first met months ago, except this time Alec didn’t know why he felt threatened, only that he did. He kept apologizing for his mood, and Magnus had no way of reassuring him without creating the very problem he was trying to avoid.

Magnus shook himself out of his thoughts as the doors opened at their approach. Maryse Lightwood stood in the foyer, smiling warmly before kissing Alec’s cheek. Grief at the recent death of her youngest child still haunted her eyes, but nonetheless her kindness seemed sincere as she greeted them both.

“Magnus, welcome,” she murmured, her hands fluttering as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them before she extended one to him. “I’m so pleased you decided to stay here with us while you’re in Alicante.”

A friendly Maryse Lightwood was something he’d have to get used to, but nonetheless Magnus accepted the hesitant handshake. He’d thought often of their conversation in the infirmary, before she learned of Max’s death and Robert’s betrayal. Still stinging from the Dot’s death, he’d been hard on her when she’d made that first overture of conciliation toward him. He hadn’t said anything that night that wasn’t true or fair; indeed, for Alec’s sake, he hadn’t been as harsh as he could have been. But she’d suffered two devastating losses of her own since then and still hadn’t wavered in her efforts to be a better person.

His bitterness over past wrongs no longer seemed to be sufficient reason not to exert himself to meet her halfway.

“Thank you, Maryse. I appreciate you opening your home for us. My late friend, Ragnor Fell, had a house here when he taught at the Shadowhunter academy. He left it for me and Catarina to use whenever we needed, but it’s a bit too far from Alicante to be convenient if Alec should need to go somewhere when I’m not available to provide a portal.”

Her smile didn’t so much as flicker at Magnus’s assumption that Alec would choose to stay with him rather than his family; in fact, it only grew fonder. “Well, perhaps after this business with the inquiry is dealt with, the two of you can resume your honeymoon and spend some time there if you choose? The countryside here in Idris can be quite lovely and peaceful, can’t it?”

Sweet mercy, she really was trying her hardest, wasn’t she? Magnus laid his other hand over hers, since somehow neither of them had withdrawn from the handshake yet. “That’s certainly an idea worth considering, once we see how this goes. Thank you for the suggestion.”

Alec’s brow furrowed as he looked down at their hands. “Your rune is gone.”

Maryse flinched slightly and pulled her hand back, turning her wrist up so they could see the underside. A shiny, fading patch of pink in the shape of a Wedded Union rune tinted her skin. It matched the hue that darkened her cheeks. “Oh. Yes. Well. Our rune had already mostly faded since, um, before Max’s rune ceremony a few months ago. I decided to have it completely removed before Robert’s trial.”

Alec squeezed her shoulder, stepping close to press a kiss to her temple. “Good call. I’m sorry, though.”

Maryse leaned on him a moment. “It’s fine,” she said when she withdrew. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “It was time. Why don’t we get the two of you settled in? We can all have supper and then some of the Silent Brothers will be joining us to conduct the inquiry.”

“I’m not being called before the Clave? This isn’t about…what happened on the steps of the Institute?” Alec swallowed and blinked. “What inquiry, Mom?”

“I’m really not certain,” Maryse said, looking troubled as she led them to the sweeping stairs that curved up toward the second floor. “I only know that the Silent Brothers have requested that you, Jace, Isabelle, and Clary all be present for it.”

Magnus nearly stumbled and caught himself by grabbing the ornate cap of the newel post. “I-Isabelle has been summoned also?”

Alec spun on the second step and frowned at him. “You all right?”

“Yes. Of course.” Magnus forced a smile, which he could tell by the tic in Alec’s jaw that he wasn’t buying. “It’s just—with the exception of Maia and myself, the Silent Brothers appear to want to speak with everyone who was there at Lake Lyn immediately before or after Valentine’s defeat.”

He hated the way understanding erased Alec’s scowl. He assumed Magnus was simply thrown by the memory of finding Alec close to death on the shore of Lake Lyn.

And Magnus, disgusted with himself, let Alec believe it.

“They probably just want a recounting of what happened with Raziel that night,” Alec said, sliding a reassuring hand down Magnus’s biceps. “They’re our historians and lore-keepers, after all. I’m more curious about why they wouldn’t want to get yours and Maia’s perspective on it.”

“Perhaps they correctly assumed I’d accompany you?” Magnus offered, managing to pull off a little more conviction this time.

Alec’s mouth tightened. “Or they’re writing off your version of what happened because you’re Downworlders. If this is about getting an accurate recounting for posterity, they need everyone’s version of events.”

Magnus shrugged uncomfortably. “Let’s make sure that’s even what this is about before we jump to conclusions. And which Silent Brothers are involved. If it’s Brother Zachariah, I doubt that will be an issue.”

“I had wondered how you got him to officiate your wedding,” Maryse remarked, finally continuing to lead them up the stairs. With Alec’s back to him, Magnus could let out a slow breath and compose himself.

“I’m with Brother Zachariah from back before he was a Silent Brother,” he explained lightly. “He has—had—ties to the warlock community and is generally far more approachable than most Silent Brothers.”

The chit-chat about Magnus’s past and the state of the Silent Brothers’ order since Valentine killed so many of them in his attack on the City of Bones kept them occupied until Maryse opened a door at the far end of one wing of the house. Magnus could tell immediately that this wasn’t Alec’s room in any meaningful way. Unlike Alec’s bedroom at the Institute, there was no sense of Alec’s presence in this elegant suite.

As though she knew exactly what Magnus was thinking as he looked around the room, Maryse smiled fondly and said, “I hope you don’t mind that it’s one of the guest rooms. The last time Alec spent any significant amount of time in this house, his room was still the nursery.”

Magnus chuckled at Alec’s blush. “Aw. Were you still in a crib or did you have a big boy bed?”

Alec scoffed. “I have no idea. I think by the time I returned to Idris, it was…” He broke off suddenly and huffed a harsh breath, bowing his head.

“…Max’s room,” Maryse murmured, her eyes shimmering.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said solemnly.

“Don’t be.” Maryse blinked several times and shook herself, lifting her chin. “There will always be reminders of him for us to stumble over, and that’s not a bad thing.” She reached out and clasped Alec’s hand. “It’s okay to keep him alive in our memories.”

Alec inhaled slowly and looked up. “Yeah.” He mustered a sweet smile and Maryse stroked his face, then slipped from the room, leaving them alone.

“You okay?” Magnus asked quietly when she was gone.

“Yeah.” Alec swallowed hard, then abruptly reached out and pulled Magnus to him, burying his face in Magnus’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m off-kilter today and I don’t know why, and I think I’ve been taking it out on you.”

“No, you haven’t. Not at all,” Magnus said, glad Alec couldn’t see his face. He despised himself more with every word, all of which were true and none of which were actually the truth. “This is a challenging time. There have been so many ups and terrible, terrible downs. You’ve been through so much—we’ve been through so much—that there are bound to be days where we’re simply…unsettled.”

Alec nodded, his hand cupping the back of Magnus’s head as he drew away to search his eyes. “We’re lucky to even have those days, aren’t we?” he said, a slight hitch in his voice.

“Blessed, even.” Magnus brushed a light kiss across his lips. “We should head down to dinner, I suppose.”

Alec drew a deep breath and released him, squaring his shoulders. “Yeah. Guess we should. Let’s figure out what this is all about so we can go home.”

* * *

The feel of Max’s presence was inescapable in this house.

Alec and Izzy had largely grown up in the New York Institute. But by the time Max was old enough to begin his studies, their parents had started spending more and more time in Idris, working on building their political careers and leaving running the affairs of the Institute in Alec’s hands with Hodge as his adviser. Of all of them, Max was the child only who could be said to have been raised here.

Hints of him lingered everywhere Alec looked. A slight mismatch in the paint or wallpaper, where damage he’d done to the wall had been patched over. Scratches on the balustrade of the staircase where he’d run his toys along the wood. The coat closet in the foyer was full of winter jackets and boots that he’d outgrown. Alec had no doubt that if he went into the old nursery, everything would be exactly as Max had left it when he left Idris to attend Alec and Magnus’s wedding just a few weeks ago.

It was obvious from their subdued behavior that Jace and Izzy felt it, also. Clary attempted to make some conversation, so oddly enough, any any effort at conviviality at dinner was carried exclusively by Clary, Magnus, and Maryse.

That made a certain sort of sense, Alec supposed. Their mother had had at least a few more days in this house to get used to the way it felt like Max was going to pop out of a hidden alcove at any moment. Still, the idea of her and Magnus buoying them all through dinner with humorous anecdotes and chit-chat was not a situation Alec had ever anticipated.

Brother Zachariah arrived just as they were finishing dinner, his unmarred face incongruous as always alongside the disfigured visages of the two other Silent Brothers who accompanied him. They adjourned to the family room, with its dark, ornate furniture and massive fireplace. After living in New York for so long, being in Idris was like stepping into an historical drama. Parts of Idris had modernized, of course. The Clave used technology in its operations, the R&D labs were state of of the art, but the decor at home and daily living was still something out of a bygone era. Everything around him was frozen in the past.

And yet, it felt right. He couldn’t imagine Idris any other way.

 _We’ve summoned you here to inquire about the events of the night Valentine Morgenstern was killed,_ Brother Zachariah explained. Beside him, Magnus stiffened and Izzy sat upright in her chair, clasping her hands together in her lap. _The Clave has received Jace Herondale’s request to attempt to reforge his severed_ parabatai _bond with Alec Lightwood, but we cannot proceed until we understand how the bond came to be broken._

Alec shot Jace a startled look. “I didn’t realize you’d already put the wheels in motion for that,” he said, swallowing hard.

Jace smiled fondly. “Yeah, well, I figured this way we could take care of it as soon as you got back from your holiday. Besides, Iz has been kicking my ass in training lately. We need the bond.”

“Right. You’re right.” Alec made himself smile, and hated himself a little for it. The icy finger of reluctance poking him in the gut didn’t make any sense. Being hesitant about becoming _parabatai_ back when Alec thought he was in love with Jace was one thing. Now there was nothing that should give him pause.

But clearly Jace had been missing the bond far more than Alec did.

 _The_ parabatai _bond is one of the our most sacred traditions,_ Brother Enoch intoned. _It makes our soldiers far more powerful, more capable of vanquishing the demons the Angel charged us with destroying. A bond strained may fade away due to exile or estrangement. But for a bond to be severed altogether, that is something that only happens when one partner dies or is stripped of their runes._

 _Or becomes a Silent Brother or Iron Sister,_ Brother Zachariah added. _In these cases, there is no hope of ever reforging the bond. Before we permit any attempt at another_ parabatai _ceremony, we must know what happened._

Alec nodded soberly. “Well, Izzy? You’re the one who seems to have the answers for this.”

Izzy looked a little pale and nervous, her mouth drawn into a tight smile. “As you know, Alec was badly injured during the confrontation with Valentine. My theory is that his heart stopped. He technically died, but only for a moment. Magnus and I reached him in time for Magnus to use healing magic on him.”

Alec looked down to see Magnus’s fist clenching on his thigh, his rings scraping together and his knuckles turning white.

 _This cannot be,_ remarked the third Silent Brother, whose name Alec couldn’t remember. A heavy undercurrent of suspicion underpinned the voice filling his head. _The_ parabatai _bond is a merging of souls. Such a severing cannot happen unless the soul departs the body. And if the soul has departed the body, nothing but necromantic magic can bring it back._

His cowled head turned toward Magnus, the accusation clear.

_Is this true? Brother Zachariah asked._

Magnus nodded gravely. “It is true that only necromancy can bring back a soul which has departed the body. If you’re asking if I used such magic to resurrect Alec, the answer is absolutely not. To begin with, it’s ritual magic. It requires preparation and very specific components, and must be performed in places where mystical energy is enhanced or amplified. It also calls for spells I have never learned because I simply refuse to approach such things. Even if I’d been willing to do so, I could not have brought Alexander back from the dead that night. I simply didn’t have the means.”

He raised his head and looked directly at Izzy. “Furthermore, there are certain forces which should never be meddled with. The potential consequences are too terrible, far worse than the loss of a loved one. It’s a personal guideline I’ve never broken, and never will…not even for someone I cherish as much as my husband.”

Alec frowned. It was exactly the same answer Izzy had given him when he had asked her if Magnus might have resurrected him, back when they had first returned from Lake Lyn. Why was that confirmation somehow less reassuring, rather than more?

He didn’t doubt Magnus. Not really. But the idea that Magnus might have used magic to bring him back was the only explanation he could find for the feeling of being somehow wrong that had plagued him since his return from Lake Lyn.

“What if it was the Angel?” Clary said suddenly.

The Silent Brothers’ cowl-covered heads turned toward her in eerie tandem. Beside him, Magnus suddenly went rigid with tension, and Izzy looked at Clary with huge, alarmed eyes.

“I grew up in the mundane world,” she explained quickly. “There were always stories about people who were on the brink of death, but claimed an angel intervened, told them it wasn’t time for them, and then they came back.” She clasped her hands together on her lap. “Nobody really believes it. I didn’t believe it when I was growing up. But seeing Raziel that night; he was exactly the way the mundanes always described angels, all light and holiness. If their description of angels is accurate, why couldn’t their stories of angels preventing their deaths be? Valentine summoned the Angel just a few minutes after he shot Alec. Maybe Raziel—I don’t know—prevented Alec’s soul from departing.”

Jace swallowed thickly, and looked across the room at Alec with so much relief and affection that it made Alec’s throat ache. “If that’s true, Alec coming back is an actual miracle. A blessing.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Clary,” Izzy said, her tone firm. “I don’t think Raziel had anything to do with it.”

Their mother looked at Izzy, frowning sharply.

 _Indeed,_ said the third Silent Brother who had insinuated Magnus had brought Alec back using magic. Derision imbued the voice in their minds. _To apply mundane superstitions to this matter is an insult to all we hold sacred._

“Forgive me, Brothers, but I think Clary may be correct. Or at least she may be on the right track.” Maryse drew herself up, her spine rigid. “I truly believe Magnus when he says he wouldn’t have used magic to bring Alec back. And in any event, he didn’t have the means to do so even if he’d been willing. But clearly something happened to prevent Alec’s death.”

Maryse rose, pacing toward the fireplace and smoothing down her skirt. “We can’t know the Raziel’s will; we only know his mandate for us: protect this world from demons.” She smiled shakily in Alec’s direction. “My son has been a valiant warrior and leader in that fight. He fell on the shores of Lake Lyn attempting to stop Valentine, who would have committed the worst possible sacrilege, had he used the Angel to kill not just Downworlders, but hundreds or even thousands of Nephilim who wouldn’t pledge their loyalty to him.”

The Silent Brothers said nothing, but what felt like a ripple of agreement whispered along Alec’s mind.

“Alec fought to prevent that,” Maryse continued. “He’s fought to stem the tide of hatred and mistrust of Downworlders that led to Valentine’s crusade, and led so many of our own people to follow Valentine into rebellion and blasphemy. If any Nephilim has proven himself a true and loyal servant of Raziel, it’s Alec.”

 _Alec Lightwood threatened to lead his Institute in rebellion against the Clave,_ the third Silent Brother argued.

“That was when the Clave was being led astray by Consul Malachi and his allies, whom we now know had given their allegiance to Valentine,” Maryse replied. “My son recognized that—even if he didn’t know precisely where the corruption lay or or how far it had spread—and he promised to do what he had to in order to prevent the Institute under his protection from being similarly misled.”

Alec glanced slowly around the room. At Jace, who was nodding slowly with a small, proud smile. At Clary, whose expressive face was strangely neutral. At Isabelle, her fingers clasping each other tightly. At the Silent Brothers, whose cowls came together as though they conferred among themselves. And at Magnus…

…who was staring daggers at Izzy, his lips pressed in a pale, tense line.

The bottom fell out of Alec’s stomach.

Then he looked at his mother, who still stood before the fireplace, her face set in a bland politician’s smile.

Finally, Brother Zachariah’s voice filled their heads. _We must take great care not to encourage any…messianic thinking that could arise here. But if it is true that Alec Lightwood’s life was preserved by the Angel, for whatever purpose, then we must also be sure he is permitted to continue his work._

 _A Shadowhunter’s_ parabatai _is an integral and necessary part of the performance of their duty,_ Brother Enoch intoned. _Furthermore, because of Valentine’s blasphemous experiments with Ithuriel’s blood, Jace Herondale is one of the most powerful warriors the Nephilim have ever had, and it would not be in the Clave’s interests to see him weakened or diminished._

The third Silent Brother simply continued to radiate disapproval. Still, Brother Zachariah continued, _By tradition, Shadowhunters have never been permitted to undergo the_ parabatai _ceremony twice in their lifetime, but in this case we will allow Jace Herondale and Alec Lightwood to attempt to reforge the bond of their souls. I will return tomorrow to oversee the ceremony myself._

The Silent Brothers filed out without another word.

Alec couldn’t look at any of them as they released their collective breaths. Not even Jace, who was beaming delightedly.

“You hear that, buddy? We get to try it again!”

“Yeah, that’s great.” It took effort to inject some of the cheer he should be feeling into his tone. He smiled at Jace, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to Izzy.

Her makeup stood out too sharply against skin that had drained of color over the course of the meeting. Her smile was the same loving smile she always gave them, though. “It’s better than great,” she said, crossing the room to him and kissing his cheek. “We all need things to get back to normal, or as close as they can without Max and Dad. This is a step in that direction.”

Their mother swiped her hands down the front of her skirt again and broke her frozen stance by the fireplace to approach them. “Isabelle’s right.” Her eyes were sad, glistening in the firelight. “We do need to return to normal. I guess I didn’t realize exactly what had happened at Lake Lyn until just now. I didn’t know how close we had come to losing you, too, Alec.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, snagging her hand. “I’m—I’m fine.”

I’m not, whispered that creeping voice in his head, the one that had been getting louder ever since his return from Lake Lyn. But he couldn’t let Izzy know that. Or Magnus, or Jace, or his Mom.

“You are.” Maryse drew herself up and cupped his face, smiling gently. “We all are. We just need to look out for each other and we’ll all be fine.”

Her eyes slid back to Izzy as she spoke.

Izzy cleared her throat. “We will. But I have to get back to New York. I need to go to my meeting.”

“What, you’re not staying for the ceremony tomorrow?” Jace asked with an incredulous laugh.

“Lydia’s short-handed at the Institute since all of you are here in Idris.” She shrugged carelessly. “And I’ve seen it before.”

Then she was gone, in that way Izzy had of slipping away before anyone had a chance to ask her questions she didn’t want to answer.

Suddenly the room felt too hot, too full of people. His lungs wouldn’t expand properly, and he couldn’t look at any of them.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” he muttered, and fled the room before any of them could reply.

The balcony off his suite offered some relief. A high space, surrounded by open air. It wasn’t the cozy, comforting enclosure that the roof of Magnus’s loft had become, but at least it didn’t offer the temptation to fall back in the habit of igniting his Surefooted rune to leap off the roof. 

He hadn’t seen it at the time, after he’d killed Jocelyn, that he’d been practicing for a far more irrevocable fall. Now he knew what he’d been doing. One day, he would have “forgotten” to ignite his rune, except before it reached that point, Jace had activated the Soul Sword, unwittingly helping Valentine kill dozens of Downworlders.

Jace’s despair, and the Institute’s need for guidance, had kept Alec alive, given him something to hang in there for until his own guilt had receded to a low, omnipresent ache. And now here he was, alive literally by the grace of the Angel.

“Alexander?” Magnus murmured behind him, and Alec gripped the wrought-iron railing of the balcony.

“When were you intending to tell me that Izzy used Raziel’s boon to bring me back?”

* * *

Magnus sighed. He flicked his fingers and returned Alec’s memory of the conversation they’d had in the chalet that morning.

“As soon as we got back to New York,” he answered, though of course with those memories restored, Alec already knew that. “As promised, the moment you passed through the wards to enter the loft, the memories would have been restored to you. Now, however, I suppose there’s no point.”

“God, no wonder you were so worried. If the Clave finds out…” Alec swallowed heavily. “Magnus, what are we going to do? My mom can’t keep deflecting their questions forever.”

So Maryse had figured it out. Magnus had thought that song and dance about the Angel’s plan for Alec had come a bit out of nowhere. “She is an artful stateswoman, I’ll give her that. Careful she doesn’t cement the Lightwoods’ power by convincing the whole Clave that you’re Raziel’s avatar in this realm. I’m impressed that she actually managed to divert the Silent Brothers into contemplating the validity of Clary’s mundane superstition instead of putting together the pieces that were all lying right there. ”

“I can’t believe _I_ didn’t put them together sooner.” Alec said, his jaw clenched as he glared out over the moonlit city. “I knew I died, Magnus. I _knew_ it. But then I wasn’t dead, and I couldn’t... God, I even asked Izzy if you had… I-I know you _wouldn’t_ , but I couldn’t explain it any other way. She looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘Magnus did not use magic to bring you back from the dead.’” He snorted. “Well, at least she was telling the truth.”

Magnus huffed softly. “She’s spent too much time with the Seelies. She’s very gifted at hiding lies behind the truth.”

“She’s always been the most devout of all of us. It never occurred to me she’d profane the Angel’s wish.”

“ _Profane_?” Magnus turned an appalled stare on Alec. “Is that what you really think?”

“I guarantee you the Clave will see it that way. It’s the very first Law. Anyone suborning Raziel’s boon _forfeits the protection of the angels_. The Clave added other deruning offenses over the centuries, but that’s literally the only one spelled out explicitly in the Covenant. They won’t make distinctions. They’ll find what she did every bit as blasphemous as Valentine attempting to use the wish to annihilate the Downworld.”

“Oh, please The only part of Valentine’s scheme most of them would see as blasphemous is the part that involved killing Shadowhunters as well.” 

“The wish Raziel promised us was meant to be used in an emergency, to aid us if we were ever losing the battle to protect this world from demons. She wasted it for something entirely selfish and personal.”

“She wouldn’t consider it a waste, and neither would I,” Magnus snapped, something cold and dangerous gripping his heart. “You speak as though your life has no value.”

“Not enough value to justify… _this_!”

“Clearly your sister disagreed.”

“What, you’re defending her? You said yourself that you wouldn’t have brought me back.”

Magnus gritted his teeth. “Not by using dark magic, no. And I admit, I don’t know what the consequences of this may be, and they terrify me. But there’s _nothing_ Isabelle wouldn’t do for you. You know that.” He hung his head, blinking away the burning in his eyes. For a moment, he was back on that rocky shore, kneeling over Alec’s body and lost in despair. “Since that night, I’ve swung back and forth between outrage at her recklessness and abject gratitude. I’m furious with her for roping me into her lie before I even had a chance to tell the truth, but she _brought you back to me_ , Alexander. How can I possibly resent her for that?”

Alec said nothing. Magnus held his silence for a moment, hand wrapped around the railing of the balcony while he tried to put into words what was in his heart.

“That is the nightmare that has kept me awake this week. I’ve lost people before, of course. That’s part and parcel of being immortal. Some of the people you love, you don’t get to keep forever. I’ve known from the start that one day…one day you wouldn’t be there. I knew it might happen suddenly, violently, with no chance to brace myself. After all, you’re a Shadowhunter; longevity isn’t really in the cards.” He dashed away the tear that escaped his eye. “But I wasn’t prepared for it to be so soon. I wasn’t prepared for us to have only a few weeks together. I wasn’t prepared to see you lying there, knowing there was nothing I could do.”

Alec turned to stare at him with something akin to horror dawning on his face. “Why…why would you do that to yourself?” he asked thickly. “Why would you marry me, why would you _love_ me, knowing…knowing _that_?”

“How could I not?” He cupped Alec’s jaw, stroking his thumb along the cheekbone. “It’s a dilemma I’ve faced before. Has it really never occurred to you that it would be an issue?”

Alec ducked his head, shrugging awkwardly. “I guess, in the abstract? Our decision to get married was so rushed, and I think I wrote it off as a consideration early on because I didn’t know we—we’d feel this way.”

Magnus smiled sadly. “Someday, that’s a subject we need to spend time contemplating. Courtesy of Izzy, however, it doesn’t have to be today. But now we’ve talked about how I felt about you dying, and how your sister felt, and we’ve even talked about how your mother feels. What we haven’t talked about is how _you_ feel, knowing you died and were brought back.”

Alec drew away, scoffing. “How do I even answer that? How am I supposed to feel?”

“Alexander—”

“I can’t even say I’m surprised. Something’s wrong with me, Magnus. Something’s been wrong with me since I came back, and I don’t know what. Nothing feels _real_ anymore. I have moments where I’m almost there, where everything feels _almost_ the way I know it’s supposed to feel, but I can’t quite find it.”

Magnus’s stomach felt hollow. “Find what?”

“…I don’t know. It’s like trying to touch things wearing rubber gloves. Like there’s some barrier between me and… _everything_. Even you.”

He needed to move. Magnus turned away from Alec, pacing the small balcony, his hands gesturing in an effort to release some of this sudden nervous energy.

“Are you certain it’s because you were brought back?” he asked.

“What else could it be?”

Magnus stilled his pacing, giving Alec a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been through hell these past few months, Alec. All the turmoil in your family. Being possessed by a demon. Jocelyn's death and the guilt that followed. The tremendous loss of both Max and your father’s betrayal. Not to mention what happened at Lake Lyn. Depression, or feeling numb, feeling _disconnected_ , is a perfectly normal and reasonable response to all of that.”

“But you said there could be consequences to coming back. Everyone knows if you bring people back from the dead, they could come back…not right.”

“Yes.” Magnus nodded solemnly. “But the examples behind that truism were all cases where dark magic was used. The chances of demonic interference in those situations are rather significant. This is different. There’s a much more mundane explanation. That you’re exhausted, and traumatized, and you need time to heal.”

“How do we find out?” Alec asked, his voice a little ragged.

“I think we wait,” Magnus said, taking his time before answering. “We try to get our lives back on an even keel, try to find a sense of normalcy. See what happens after you’ve had some time.”

Alec seemed to shrink in on himself a little. “And what if we find out I’m not _right_ , somehow? What then?”

Magnus’s stomach churned. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Alec’s voice had a hard edge, his teeth bared slightly. “You know what we need to do if I’ve come back wrong. If I’m not _me_.”

“You can’t ask me to—”

“But I _am_ , Magnus.” Alec moved toward him with those sharp, purposeful movements Magnus had seen him use before when he was worked up. He found himself taking a step back, and hated himself for that flinch. Especially since Alec caught it. “Oh my God. You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not, Alec. I’m just thrown that suddenly the conversation has gone to…to _this_.”

“Why? Isn’t that what has to happen? Isn’t that why Clary took me with her when she tried to have Iris bring her mother back? Because if it wasn’t Jocelyn, someone would need to be there to get rid of…it?”

Magnus shook his head wildly, the balcony swirling dizzily around him. “Clary should never have asked that of you after what you'd been through, and you can’t possibly ask this of me.”

“Who else should I ask? Jace? _Izzy_? Do you think I could trust her with this, especially now?”

“And do you think I love you any less than she does?” Magnus snapped, raising his voice.

The silence that followed was a moment frozen in time, Alec staring at him in shock and Magnus startled into stillness by his own shout.

His face was suddenly wet, and he had no idea when that had begun. “Do you think because I wouldn’t have brought you back, had the choice been mine, that I don’t love you just as desperately as Isabelle? If I didn’t think to use the Angel’s wish, it’s only because I’ve spent centuries instructing myself that power was never to be used in such a way. It was _literally_ unthinkable to me. But not because I don’t love you.”

“Then what do I do?” Alec hugged himself, somehow suddenly looking small and lost. “If I haven’t come back right, what do I do?”

Magnus grabbed Alec’s hands, forced them out from where they were tucked into his armpits. His fingers were ice-cold and Magnus wrapped them in his own.

“We find a way to make you right again,” he said firmly, gripping Alec’s fingers so hard his hands shook. “Nothing else is acceptable, Alexander. _Nothing_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _parabatai_ ceremony does not go as planned, and the secret spreads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of an update last week. I got some distressing news about my sister and my head just wasn't in the game for writing or posting.

Lightwoods had grown up and trained to become Shadowhunters in this house for centuries. The armory and training room were somewhat dusty, but still perfectly serviceable. When tossing and turning beside Magnus—who lay too still and rigid to be sleeping—had failed to offer Alec sleep as an escape from his wildly spinning thoughts, he’d had left the bed and sought refuge there.

Jace found him shortly after dawn, drenched in sweat, his muscles aching from battering the training dummy with a quarterstaff for hours on end.

“Hey,” Jace said brightly, “Brother Zachariah will be here soon. You should get some breakfast and a shower before the ceremony.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Alec leaned on his staff, forehead pressed against the wood and his eyes on the floor. He didn’t want to face Magnus, or Maryse, and he especially did not want to face Jace. He couldn’t let Jace realize that the absence of their bond hadn’t been bothering him.

He should have noticed it before, the lack of that… _void_ in his soul. Since Lake Lyn, however, even amongst all the things he’d been examining to try to figure out what felt so wrong, that was the one thing that hadn’t occurred to him.

Hell, perhaps the fact that he hadn’t noticed it was proof that he wasn’t _right_ anymore.

“Everything okay?” Jace asked, stepping closer. Alec had to suppress the urge to move away.

What the hell was wrong with him? This was Jace, his brother, his _parabatai_ in spirit if not in fact at the moment. Why wouldn’t he miss their bond? Why wouldn’t he miss _Jace_? They’d had their issues after Clary entered their lives, but they’d gotten past that. Until the day Max died and everything fell apart, they’d been closer than ever before. And now it was like some part of his soul had just written Jace off.

Guilt made Alec’s stomach churn. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t reject Jace, not after everything Jace had been through with Valentine, both long ago and recently. The abuse and manipulation—Jace needed family, needed love. If Alec gave up on Jace, gave up on _them_ , Jace would blame himself. He wouldn’t understand.

“Everything’s fine.” Alec said casually. “Why would you even ask?”

“Well, not to get into things I really would be happier not knowing the details of, but if I were on my honeymoon, I wouldn’t be out of bed before sunrise beating the hell out of a training dummy. Just saying.”

Alec scraped his sweaty hair back from his brow, his grappling for a plausible excuse. “It’s just being in this house, you know? I can really feel Max here. Can’t you?”

_Forgive me, Max._

Shadows crept into Jace’s eyes and dimmed his smile. “Yeah, I guess you can.” He bowed his head. “He was at the age where he should have been starting to train with a potential _parabatai_ himself. I wonder if he’d chosen someone?”

“Izzy would know, if anyone would. She always knew him best.” The pain of talking about Max was a perverse relief, pulling Alec away from his turmoil about Jace. He hated himself a little for using Max’s memory that way.

He also hated himself for keeping the true reason why their bond had broken in the first place from Jace. But Jace was Imogen Herondale’s grandson. And Clary Fairchild’s…whatever they were now. If he told Jace about what Izzy had done with Raziel’s wish, he couldn’t be entirely sure Jace would keep it to himself.

_When did I stop trusting Jace implicitly?_

Perhaps when he stopped being Jace’s only priority. Alec no longer begrudged Jace his connection with Clary, and he certainly didn’t begrudge Jace the effort to build a relationship with his grandmother. But for so long, he and Izzy had been Jace’s only family and Jace would never have put anything above them.

If this last year had shown Alec nothing else, it was that things were different now. If Jace felt his reasons were sufficient, Jace could and would choose the other parts of his life over his relationship with Alec and Izzy. It didn’t mean he loved them less, it just meant his loyalties were divided in a way they hadn’t been before.

Alec shoved his staff back in the rack with a little too much force. 

“Alec.” Jace’s hand closed around his upper arm, compelling Alec to turn and face him. “I can’t sense what you’re feeling right now. I don’t know what’s going on unless you tell me.”

“ _I_ don’t even know what’s going on, Jace!” Alec said desperately. “I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s Max dying or if it’s what happened at Lake Lyn or—”

“Hey. _Hey_.” Jace pulled him roughly into his arms, wrapping him in an enveloping hug. What once had made Alec feel so conflicted now simply felt like home and family and comfort. Alec half-collapsed into it, let Jace buoy him up as he buried his face in Jace’s shoulder.

“Mom is right,” Jace murmured to him. “We need to find normal again, or whatever _normal_ is now without Max and Robert. And we’ll get there. It’s just going to take time.”

“That’s what Magnus says, too.” Alec sighed, some of his tension draining away.

Jace chuckled wetly. “Well, if we’re all saying it, it must be true.” He drew back, patting Alec’s shoulder. “Go on. Get ready and I’ll meet you down here when Brother Zachariah arrives.”

* * *

Magnus was awake when Alec returned to his room, wrapped in his dressing gown and propped against the pillows with a cup of tea. He watched Alec…not quite warily, but certainly attentively, caution in his eyes and a small frown drawing his mouth down.

Alec could barely look at him. He shuffled from one foot then the other, then chucked a thumb in the direction of the _en suite_ bath. “I-I need to shower. Brother Zachariah will be here soon.”

He’d barely ducked under the spray when a bare arm swept the sliding glass door aside and Magnus stepped into the shower, crowding Alec against the wall.

“We agreed to fight for each other, Alexander,” Magnus rasped. His fingers slid into Alec’s hair, controlling Alec’s head until Alec had no choice but to meet his merciless stare. His eyes flared, brown bleeding away into gold. Fierce determination radiated from him, carried on pulses of power that Alec could feel on his skin, zinging up and down his spine before settling, throbbing, into his groin. “We promised to _try_. Whatever the Seelie Queen has in store for me, whatever the fallout of Isabelle’s wish for you, we _fight_.”

Alec swallowed thickly, but he couldn’t find the words to reply. It didn’t matter, though. Magnus’s lips were hard upon his, claiming him, leaving him no room for doubt or despair. Magnus’s mouth and body and hands offered him something solid to be anchored to while everything else had him feeling cast adrift.

That should have felt wrong, too. Alec was always the one who kept others grounded; that was the role he’d made for himself in life. Jace was the reckless one, and Izzy was so devoted to supporting the people she loved that she forgot to rein them in. _Alec_ was the person who brought them all back down to earth.

But here and now, Magnus extended him a lifeline in the form of _surety_ , and Alec clasped it desperately. His head fell back against the shower wall and he let Magnus possess him until he forgot what it was like to not feel like _himself_.

A little of that hard-won certainty faded once they made their way downstairs for a light breakfast that Alec did nothing more than pick at, and then into the training room. But each time it began to slip away, Magnus’s hand found Alec’s arm or waist or shoulder. Something, anything, just a little touch until Alec was connected again.

In the Institute, there was a ceremonial hall for rites such as this, but in Idris, Shadowhunter homes tended to combine training and ceremonial functions into a single space. It made sense, since so many of their rites were centered around making them more effective warriors. Jace was already pacing near the _parabatai_ rune inscribed in the floor, Clary standing off to the side, when Alec entered.

“We get to make history. The first _parabatai_ to re-bond after one temporarily dies,” he said eagerly, his eyes shining as he held out his hand.

Alec clasped Jace’s forearm and forced himself to smile back. “Well, when your _parabatai_ is _the legendary Jace Herondale_ doing what’s never been done before is just another day at the office, right?”

Jace grinned, but Brother Zachariah walked in with Maryse before he could reply.

 _Let us begin_ , he murmured in their minds. No time for pleasantries, then. Alec drew a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to clear his mind, trying to remember all the things they’d been told in preparation for their first ceremony. To focus on each other, to empty their minds of all else, to reach for each other not physically, but spiritually.

“Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee…” Jace recited, his eyes gleaming golden.

That was new.

“…For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge…” Alec fell into the familiar oath with him, though the words felt as though they might choke him. The first time they’d done this, he’d had trouble forcing himself to speak, but that was nerves. This time, the words were gritty in his throat, harsh, scouring tender tissues suddenly gone dry.

His stomach roiled. The sense that something, _everything_ , was inescapably wrong nearly doubled him over. He pulled his stare away from Jace’s glowing eyes, which were gradually looking less certain, and realized that the circle of fire that was supposed to have surrounded them…hadn’t. The blue flame spluttered and attempted to ignite, then faded away into nothing.

“Something’s wrong,” Jace said, alarmed, but Alec was already sprinting for the hamper where he’d thrown his sweat-drenched towels earlier when he’d been working out, retching into it. He’d bypassed breakfast, so all that he managed to bring up were a few mouthfuls of saliva and bile before dry heaving miserably.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped when he turned away, wiping his mouth. Magnus was there with a clean towel and a glass of water, both of which Alec accepted gratefully.

“What just happened?” Jace asked, bewilderment bleeding away into hurt. “Why didn’t the fire ignite?”

 _Something is interfering with the bond. It cannot be completed_ , Brother Zachariah explained.

“It’s me, Jace,” Alec murmured wretchedly. “I’m so sorry.”

Jace shook his head, his jaw clenching. “I don’t understand. How—”

Brother Zachariah laid a hand on Jace’s shoulder. _Sometimes, Jace Herondale, to keep the ones we love, we must give them up._

With that cryptic message, he turned and left the training room. A moment later, Maryse followed him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jace demanded.

Magnus sighed. “Biscuit, can you give us the room for a moment, please?” he asked, smiling tightly.

“Sure.” Clary gave Jace a gentle look, brushing his arm with her hand as she passed.

When she was gone, Alec met Magnus’s eyes. Magnus lifted one eyebrow and Alec nodded, to weary to offer any explanations himself.

Magnus’s hands twisted in front of him. “Jace, I think Brother Zachariah assumes that you used Raziel’s wish to bring Alec back from the dead. I believe he’s also committed himself to keeping your ‘secret.’ He…has a soft spot for _parabatai_. And Herondales. It’s why he came himself to oversee the ceremony himself rather than leaving it to another Silent Brother.”

“I wasn’t even there! Why would he think— _Izzy_ ,” Jace hissed. “I should’ve guessed.”

Alec rubbed his eyes. “Mom already did.”

“I’m pretty sure Clary did, too,” Jace murmured, then gave Alec a sardonic look when his eyes flew open in panic. “What, you don’t think she actually believed all that crap she was saying last night about angels sending mundanes back from the Pearly Gates or whatever?”

“Oh, God.” Alec groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Jace, you need to make sure she understands. You know what will happen to Izzy if anyone—”

“— _And_ we have no idea what could happen to _Alec_ if anyone finds out,” Magnus interrupted grimly.

“I don’t think it will be a problem,” Jace said. “I’ll talk to her, but really, she’s usually only opposed to secrets when they’re being kept from family.”

“After what Jocelyn did to her, I guess we can’t blame her for that,” Alec muttered, making Magnus twitch slightly.

Jace sighed, shrugging. “True. My point is, she’s not generally a blabbermouth.”

“Oh, really?” Magnus said harshly. “Didn’t she tell a Circle member about her rune ability less than an hour after they met when she went to the Adamant Citadel? Are you willing to gamble Alec and Isabelle’s lives on her discretion?”

Suddenly he seemed huge and imposing as he stepped up to stand toe-to-toe with Jace. “They say three may keep a secret if two are dead, and we’re well past that number now. I will not tolerate anyone jeopardizing Alexander’s safety, not even Clary, so you make absolutely certain she knows that this secret goes no further. Not Simon, not Luke, not Maia, _no one_.”

Jace’s eyes narrowed. “Are you _threatening_ me?” he demanded before Alec could speak.

“ _No one_ ,” Magnus said again, the glamour dropping from his own eyes.

“Magnus, Jace, that’s enough!” Alec snapped, scrubbing his hand through his hair.

“Alec’s right,” Maryse said steadily, walking briskly into the room, Clary following on her heels. “You will both keep your voices down. In fact, the less anyone says on this subject, the best. _Alec was brought back by the grace of Raziel’s presence and nothing more_. You will tell yourselves that over and over, until you begin to believe it as truth.”

Jace winced. “That’s one of Valentine’s tricks.”

Maryse inclined her head slightly, her composure crumpling for just an instant before she firmed up her grip on it. “I _was_ one of his lieutenants. Magnus, your memory spells are strong enough that even the Silent Brothers can’t unravel them. If _any_ of us shows signs of cracking, or if there appears to be a danger of the Clave closing in on the truth, for Alec’s sake, would you—?”

Alec caught sight of Clary’s eyes widening. “Mom, _no_ —You’re going to be the Inquisitor. You should know better!”

She shot him a fierce look. “We will do whatever is necessary to protect this family. I won’t lose another child, Alec.”

“Yeah and I bet Izzy had a similar excuse that night,” Alec replied. “That doesn’t make what you’re suggesting right. What Jocelyn did to Clary—”

“What I _helped_ Jocelyn do, Alexander,” Magnus said quietly. “Let’s not mince words on that front.”

“It was inexcusable.” He met Magnus’s eyes and Magnus nodded once, accepting the judgment.

“Only because it was against my will,” Clary said, filling the silence that followed. She folded her arms over her chest, shrinking in on herself a little at this unembellished criticism of her mother. Since he’d killed Jocelyn, none of them—especially Alec—acknowledged the multitude of sins Jocelyn had committed and what it had cost them all. “It was wrong because I was a _child_. I didn’t— _couldn’t_ —consent to it. But look. I don’t know what the Clave would do, or understand why this thing with Raziel is as big a deal as it is, but if it meant keeping Izzy and you safe—I’d consent.”

“So would I,” Jace murmured. “I’m sure the same goes for Izzy.”

“So that’s it?” Alec flung a hand out. “We just convince ourselves a lie is the truth and carry on with our lives?”

“Alec.” Maryse stepped forward and took both his hands, lifting them and squeezing them tightly. “There is a time for breaking noses and accepting the consequences, but this isn’t it. I know you want to protect Isabelle too.”

That had been his first thought, of course, when he’d found out what had happened. Before he’d started to consider the implications for himself. “I _do_ , but—”

 _But what if there’s something really wrong with me and we’re too invested in denial to let ourselves acknowledge it?_ he wanted to ask, but the words choked him. The unignited ceremonial ring on the floor, and the _lack_ of emptiness inside where a fraction of Jace’s soul had once dwelt, taunted him.

“I won’t give up my memories.” He pulled his hands out of her grip and wrapped his arms around himself. “I need to remain aware of what’s happened to me.”

“I think we can all agree that surrendering our memories should be the very last option, to be considered only if the Clave appears to be closing in on the truth. For now, they seem to have accepted Maryse’s theory of what happened, except for Brother Zachariah, who will do whatever he can to protect Jace in any event. There’s no crisis at the moment that would justify such extreme measures.”

Maryse nodded at him with a grateful smile.

“I want to go home. Magnus, can we just go?” Alec muttered, turning away from their unlikely alliance.

“Of course, Alexander.” Alec didn’t quite flinch away from the stroke of Magnus’s hand down his arm, but considering how quickly the touch disappeared, the stiffening of his spine had conveyed the same message.

Behind him, Maryse inhaled deeply. “Before you go, Alec, you should know that your father is going to be deruned this week.”

“They moved up his trial?” He turned slowly to face her again, suddenly weary.

“There was no trial. The Soul Sword was recovered from Lake Lyn. Even before then, Robert had fully acknowledged his guilt. He was questioned under the Sword for whatever intelligence he might yield about Malachi’s co-conspirators still hiding within the Clave and in exchange, his sentence was reduced to deruning instead of death.”

Alec closed his eyes, his shoulders too heavy to hold up where they should be. Maryse had told him how she and Luke had tracked Robert down to the Brooklyn Bridge, where in the end he hadn’t been able to jump. It wasn’t surprising that he’d found a way to avoid immolation.

“Complete ex-communication?” he asked tonelessly.

“Yes. He won’t be allowed contact with any of us, and we’ll face censure if we try to make contact with him.” Maryse reached out, touching his elbow lightly. “If you wish to speak with him, you need to do it before you leave Alicante.”

He should hate Robert for Max. He should regret the second massive hole losing Robert would leave in their family. He should want to see Robert, to tell him that, or maybe to find some understanding that would replace anger.

Instead, he didn’t care. _Couldn’t_ care. He couldn’t find the depth of emotion to feel anything about his father.

Alec swallowed once, and then again. His jaw ached with tension as he chewed on all the various ways he could reply, ways ranging from responses that would showcase the _wrongness_ inherent in his non-reaction to ways that would conceal it instead.

In the end, he settled for pulling away from Maryse’s hand. “I don’t.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec continues to worry about the consequences of Izzy's wish, and Liz asks a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay between chapters. Posting every other week has been a compromise, because between the #SaveShadowhunters campaign, health issues, and family and financial crises, I've been having a really hard time getting back into writing this story. Unless something changes soon, the next chapter I post will be the final one in my buffer. I will continue to try my best. In the meantime, if you want to know some of what is going on with me personally that is causing the delay, check out my [tumblr.](https://maleccrazedauthor.tumblr.com/post/180590385975/)

My strong, beautiful girl.

_Alec could remember the words clearly, even in his dreams._

My son has wanted a sister so desperately. He’ll be so happy with her.

_It was one of his first memories, playing in the hallway outside his parents’ bedroom. He couldn’t remember the other sounds from that day. Surely there must have been a great deal of activity and bustle, cries of effort from Mother and encouragement from the medic who was there to assist if any trouble arose and to keep Mother’s iratze rune activated to relieve the pain._

_He’d been too young to really register all that, though. He remembered the medic’s arrival, and then an eternity of entertaining himself in a household too busy to pay him any mind._

_Hearing the first squall of his baby sister? That he remembered._

My precious daughter. _Mother’s gentle croon was strange, unfamiliar, but thick with emotion, low and loving._

With a yell like an Iron Sister’s battle cry, _the amused medic was supposed to reply. Alec looked up from his toys, frowning when she didn’t follow the familiar script._

It’s time for the ceremony, _Mother said instead, and dread and alarm filled Alec’s chest._

_No. No, this was all wrong. Baby Izzy was too young for her rune ceremony. Even Alec wouldn’t get his first rune for another six or seven years._

_He flung his toys aside and began pounding on the door of the bedchamber._

Stop! Stop! _He tried to scream, but his voice came out as a breathless squawk._ She’s too little! You’ll hurt her!

_The cries of the baby in the next room went silent, and never resumed. Soon, it was Mother’s sobs he heard instead._

* * *

“Izzy!” Alec jerked and nearly fell off the leather sofa. It took a moment to re-orient himself and remember where he was.

The living room of the loft. It didn’t appear to be much past dawn; the light creeping through the balcony doors was gray and the sky outside leaden, promising rain.

“Alexander?” Magnus’s groggy voice drifted from the bedroom. Alec ran a hand through his hair, feeling it standing up at crazy angles, and rose from the sofa to pad barefoot across floor.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replied from the doorway. Mouse was on the bed beside Magnus, watching warily from Alec’s own spot. When Alec drew closer, she arched ran away.

At least she hadn’t hissed at him this time.

“You’re up early,” Magnus observed, scratching his ribs and yawning. “Restless night?”

“Sort of.” He sank down onto the edge of the bed next to Magnus’s hip. “I didn’t want to disturb you so I went out to the living room and I guess I fell asleep again.”

“I must have been tired to not notice you leaving the bed,” Magnus murmured, slipping his fingers through Alec’s.

“Sorry I wasn’t here to do this.” He leaned over to brush his lips across Magnus’s, and quickly found himself drawn down atop Magnus, struggling to get the covers out from between their bodies without letting go of each other. Alec groaned when Magnus’s hands delved under the hem of his t-shirt to grasp the bare skin of his back, blunt fingernails scoring lightly.

Until just a few weeks ago, until _Magnus_ , the concept of ‘skin hunger’ wasn’t something that had ever had any particular meaning for Alec. He hadn’t known it was possible to miss something so completely he wasn’t even aware of missing it. But Magnus’s touch had quickly become something more than just a pleasure.

It was utterly and wholly _necessary_. As essential as oxygen or food or sleep. How he’d survived so many years without it, Alec couldn’t fathom.

Touching Magnus like this, the feeling of disconnection, the sense of being out of step with the world around him, faded for a while. The rasp of Magnus’s goatee against his jaw, the whisper of his clothing as Magnus tugged it from his body, the scents of sandalwood shampoo and night sweat and morning breath and musky arousal, all grounded Alec in some inexplicable way, made him feel _real_.

Especially once they were skin-to-skin.

Later, as he lay between Magnus’s thighs with a heavy breath warming his scalp and Magnus’s rapid heartbeat thudding under the sweat-slicked skin beneath his cheek, Alec wished desperately they’d had the other week they’d intended for their honeymoon, if only to make it possible for this sense of rightness to linger.

“What time did you get up?” Magnus murmured, voice resonating weirdly under Alec’s ear.

Alec frowned. “I don’t actually remember. We’ll just go with your ‘witching hour’ theory.”

“Not sure it’s a theory, really. Just an observation.” Magnus’s fingers danced lightly up and down the damp skin of Alec’s shoulders. He took a deep breath and Alec could feel him hesitating before speaking again. “It was around 3 a.m. when you found Max, wasn’t it?”

“I guess.” Alec rolled away, the bottom falling out of his gut because he’d forgotten Max for a short while. He pulled the covers over him, needing what dubious armor they could offer. “How long does it take?” he asked after a moment of chewing on the words.

“For what?” Magnus turned onto his side to face Alec, tucking his hand under the pillow beneath his head.

“Until it stops ripping a hole in you every time you think of someone you’ve lost.” Alec clenched his fists around the sheet pulled up almost to his chin. “I mean…you’ve had experience with that. I’ve been lucky, I guess, especially for a Shadowhunter. I haven’t really had anyone close die yet, except for my grandparents and I hardly remember them.”

Magnus’s throat clicked as he swallowed hard. “Oh, yes, I’ve definitely had that experience. Many, many times.” A thread of bitterness embroidered his tone and he fell silent for a long moment, breathing steadily in and out, each breath a little slower than the last. “Well, I suppose it varies. On a multitude of factors, particularly the strengths of your support system. How stable you are at the time of the loss.”

“Well, I’m good with the first. The second one, though…” Alec sighed and let his head roll to the side until he looked at Magnus instead of the season.

“We’ll get through it, Alexander.” Magnus reached over, his hand sliding into Alec’s, lacing their fingers so that they were palm to palm. His voice grew shaky. “My advice to you is not to try to rush it. Let it happen. Sometimes what follows is even more devastating.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I saw you lying there that night, what I felt… I wasn’t sure I’d survive it or if I wanted to. I wasn’t sure I could go through it again. And it’s not the first time I’ve felt that way. There have been other losses where I thought, _this is it, this is the one that will finish me_. Then it’s not, and in some ways, that’s worse. The day you wake up and you realize that yes, you will survive it…it’s awful. It makes you feel disloyal, makes you question everything you ever felt. You wonder, can you truly have loved that person as much as you thought you did, if you can just move on? That’s the worst part of the process, that day when you know you can let go, even when you swore you never would.”

_He was my baby brother,_ he wanted to say. _He was a Shadowhunter in my Institute. I was supposed to protect him._

But Magnus knew all that, of course.

“Is that how it is with losing Dot?” Alec asked instead.

Magnus shook his head, sighing. “No. I had months to mourn her before she was ever gone. Her actual death simply felt like the conclusion of the process, and the fact that it was her choice made it easier to accept. Ragnor…some days I still struggle with that one. Thinking someone will be around forever and then they’re not…”

He pressed his hand over the faint scar on Alec’s chest left by Valentine’s crossbow bolt. “Neither of us have been left unscarred by all this, have we?”

“No,” Alec whispered, and drew Magnus’s hand up to his face, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

* * *

After they’d showered, Magnus tended to some pressing correspondence from various clients that had arrived while he and Alec were on holiday, drawn out of his study only by the smell of breakfast cooking.

He found Alec setting the table, with Mouse perched on the arm of the sofa, watching him warily. When Alec glanced in her direction, she darted away.

Magnus sighed wistfully, remembering how gentle and sweet Alec had been the night brought the cat home to Magnus the night before their wedding, and how Mouse had readily adopted him as _her_ human. 

“Is that French toast I smell?” he asked brightly, forcing a little more bounce into his step on his way to his chair.

Alec managed a wan smile as he took his seat. “It’s one of the few things I can make, but Madzie liked it.”

“Young children are notoriously tough food critics, but usually anything that can be drenched in syrup is a big hit.” Mouse ventured closer again, drawn by the scent of food. Magnus conjured a small dish of cream and set it beside his chair.

“Well, if it’s terrible you can just magic away your memory of it,” Alec murmured under his breath, so quietly Magnus might have missed it if the coffee cup halfway to his mouth hadn’t acted as a small echo chamber.

Magnus set down the fork he’d just picked up. 

“You’re still troubled by the request your mother made of me.” He covered Alec’s hand with his own. “You don’t need to be. I would never take your memories without your consent.”

“I know.”

_Then what’s this about?_ Magnus wanted to demand, but he swallowed the question down in favor of something less confrontational.

“Do you? I wouldn’t blame you if you had doubted.” Magnus stroked the back of Alec’s fingers idly. “I…try not to look back very much. Or forward, either. When you live for centuries, worrying too much about the future, or an inability to let go of the past, becomes a liability. Anxiety and regrets could easily become an unbearable burden. But what I did for Jocelyn, with Clary…capitulating to that request is not something I’m proud of. Jocelyn had a way of swaying people, and I agreed that raising Clary someplace Valentine would never think to look for her was a sound idea, so I went along with it. If I had to do it over again, I’d probably make very different choices.”

Alec sighed and bowed his head over his plate, the lines of his posture as weary as they’d been before they’d left on their honeymoon. Maybe even more so. Had he been resting at all?

“Magnus, my reservations weren’t because I’m afraid you’d steal my memories. You asked my permission before we went to Idris, I trusted you wouldn’t do it again without permission. And maybe, to protect Izzy, I’d even agree to it. I just—”

He swallowed audibly, his mouth working around words that seemed lodged in his throat. Magnus didn’t attempt to fill the silence, but simply waited for Alec to find what he needed to say.

Finally his hand clenched into a fist beneath Magnus’s palm. “Look, if we get so entrenched in denying anything happened that we convince ourselves nothing _did_ happen, we’re at risk of missing warning signs that something is wrong. With me.”

“So far there are no proof that anything _is_ wrong. Everything you’ve experienced…”

“…Can be explained by other factors. Yeah, I know. Grief can be causing my bad dreams a-and…and trauma is what’s making everything feel foreign, and you just can’t redo a _parabatai_ bond, and the damn cat is only being _fickle_.” His other palm smacked the table, making the flatware jump on their plates.

Mouse’s claws scrabbled at the flooring until she found enough traction to streak away.

“Oh, I can’t even imagine what else might be putting her off,” Magnus deadpanned.

Alec gave him a narrow look, his lips pressed into a tight line. “My point is, when do we stop rationalizing things away on a point-by-point basis and start looking at the bigger picture?”

“You’re assuming too much on too little evidence, Alexander.”

“Am I? Or am I just putting together the pieces everyone else is determined to bury?”

“No one is burying anything. You’re looking for fantastical explanations where simple ones will suffice!”

“You said yourself there could be consequences—”

“And if there _are_ , we’ll deal with them, but right now you’re just borrowing trouble!”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Alec’s lip curled up into a sneer. “It’s fine for you to claim you don’t look forward or back. You have that luxury. But the last time I let my guard down, Max died. I won’t let _anyone_ hurt the people I love again. Not even me.”

His chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back from the table. “I need to get to the Institute,” he muttered, and strode away before Magnus could protest.

* * *

Alec’s thumbs hovered over his phone, hesitating before sending the text that would summon Izzy to his office.

When she arrived, what would he say? Should he thank her for bringing him back? Berate her for her recklessness and for not telling him what she’d done? Censure her for wasting the Angel’s boon on him?

Beg her to help him keep an eye out for the things Magnus clearly didn’t want to see?

A rap on his open door solved the dilemma for him, once he saw who it was. He pressed “send” and silently begged Izzy to hurry and rescue him from the harangue that was no doubt forthcoming.

“Welcome back,” Liz, their chief medic, said when he beckoned her in. “I thought you’d be gone for another week.”

“Change of plans,” Alec answered vaguely. She sank into the chair across his desk and he frowned, noticing the slump and the distinct lack of the brisk energy he’s come to associate with her. “You okay?”

She grimaced and nodded. “Yeah. Long night. That’s actually what I came to talk to you about.”

Alec’s eyebrows rose. “I assumed you’d come to rake me over the coals for not taking the full two weeks you wanted me to take.”

“And any other day, you’d be right.” Liz sighed, clutching her lab coat around herself. “There’s something I think the Institute needs to—”

“You wanted to see me, Alec?” Izzy came striding through the door and stopped abruptly. “Oh, sorry, Liz. I just got Alec’s text. I can come back.”

“No, it’s fine. Stay. Nothing confidential being discussed.” Liz shifted in her chair as though it were uncomfortable for her. “I was just telling Alec about a situation I think the Institute needs to check up on. Last night, Rona’s brother Tim was murdered.”

“Your girlfriend?” Alec asked.

Liz nodded. “Partner, yes.”

“He was a werewolf also?”

“No. The Dempseys adopted Rona when she was a toddler. She’s not a born lycanthrope, anyway. She got turned by a girl she hooked up with at a sorority party her first year at college.” Liz managed a half-hearted smile. “She’d thought it was tough growing up with people who never really understood the issues she faced due to her race and sexuality. Then she became a werewolf in a family of mundanes.”

“You don’t think her brother’s murder is a mundane crime?” Izzy inquired.

“Tim was a pediatric nurse working with neonates down at St. Ambrose. Whoever murdered him did it right in the middle of the nursery and then kidnapped one of the infants. Rona overheard one of the detectives taking a statement from the security officer who checked the surveillance footage. The killer isn’t on there.”

Alec frowned. “The footage was tampered with? Looped?”

“No. I mean the killer was invisible. Tim is clearly there in the footage. One minute he’s on his feet filling out charts, the next he drops to the floor clutching his neck. Whoever came up behind him and slashed his throat as he stood there at his terminal couldn’t be seen.”

“They were glamoured,” Izzy murmured.

“Werewolves can’t glamour. Which means we’re looking for a demon, Seelie, or a warlock,” Liz said.

“Or maybe a vampire,” Alec added.

Izzy shook her head. “Vampires can deceive human perception, but not a surveillance camera.”

“Not as such, but they could have been moving too fast to be seen,” Alec added. “We’d have to slow the footage down to tell.”

Liz made a disgruntled sound. “Why would a vampire take a baby when there’s a full-grown adult lying there, bleeding? Blood is blood, and the adult would have a lot more of it to offer.”

“Some vampires have certain predilections that don’t have much to do with the quantity of blood their victim has to offer,” Izzy conceded. “But a demon or warlock seems most likely.”

“It could have been a Seelie, especially with their history of swapping out babies for changelings, but they tend to go for easier and older targets, not newborns in a secured nursery.” Alec tapped his fingers on his desk as he pondered. “Newborn blood or flesh could be used in dark magic rituals. We should probably start looking there.”

Liz went a little pale and Izzy gave him a scolding look.

_What?_ He mouthed at her as she continued to glare at him.

“Catarina works at St. Ambrose,” he said, shrugging her off. “Izzy, can you take point on this and find out if she knows anything? Grab Clary or Jace to accompany you if you need backup. Liz, do you know which precinct caught the case? Luke is our usual source in the NYPD and the one to try to run interference to keep the mundanes away from the Shadow World investigations.”

Liz sighed. “Rona asked her alpha in Queens to call Luke, but there’s bad blood there. Apparently her pack leader was good friends with Theo, the alpha Luke killed to take over the Brooklyn pack.”

“I’ll call him personally,” Alec assured her.

“How are you holding up?” Izzy asked gently, touching her fingertips to Liz’s forearm. “This has to be hitting pretty close to home.”

Liz’s smile wobbled a little. “I’m okay. Rona is my concern right now. Still, I’m glad we decided I’d be the one to try to carry this pregnancy. She nearly shifted when she got the news about Tim, and had another close call as we were leaving the hospital. If she’d been pregnant it would have been another miscarriage for sure.”

Alec’s mouth open and shut several times before he found his voice again. “ _Oh_. Damn, Liz, I’m so sorry—I didn’t realize—”

No wonder she’d turned green around the gills when he’d mentioned using infants in dark magic rituals.

She smiled wryly and rubbed her belly while Izzy rolled her eyes. “It’s fine.”

Alec’s face heated as he looked away. “You’re always wearing a lab coat,” he muttered uncomfortably. “Congratulations?”

She gave him a weary chuckle. “Thanks.”

“You’re five months along now?” Izzy asked warmly.

“Just over six.” She glanced sideways at Alec and took pity on what was probably a hilariously clueless expression. “Adoption isn’t really an option for us. There aren’t any orphaned cubs from the local packs, and the Clave is never going to let a werewolf adopt a Nephilim child.”

“…And as far as mundane authorities are concerned, neither of you would pass the required background checks and vetting,” Izzy observed.

“Exactly.” Liz answered with another sigh. “Rona’s medical records indicate she suffered seizures and psychotic episodes back in college, and I don’t even exist. So when we decided to start a family, we knew we’d have to make our own. But transformations make lycanthrope pregnancies tricky.”

Izzy’s eyes narrowed a little and Alec could practically see her slipping into clinical mode. “She loses control of her shifts?”

“Unfortunately, yes. She’s fine controlling her it under normal circumstances, but pregnancy hormones just make her grip on her emotions too precarious. So she miscarried twice before we decided I’d be the one to have our baby. Not ideal, what with the Clave’s use of child soldiers, but we didn’t have much of a choice.” She grimaced. “If we’re lucky, our kid will want to train for a support role or as a medic.”

Even though he knew she hadn’t intended it, her remark about the child soldiers hit both him and Izzy like a punch to the gut. She saw their synchronized flinch and it was her turn to flush wretchedly.

“Oh, _dammit_. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be,” he and Izzy answered in unison.

“Anyway, I’ll head back to the Infirmary, since the taste of my own feet may be the one craving I _haven’t_ developed. Thank you for looking into Tim’s murder,” Liz said, rising. “Since you’re coming back to work early, swing by sometime today and let me check you over so I can get it down on record that you’re cleared for duty.”

When she was gone, Alec covered his face with his hands and sighed. Izzy chuckled at him.

“What?” he muttered, peering at her between his fingers.

“Do I have to explain the birds and the turkey basters?”

“Shut up. And close the door.” He dropped his hands and took a deep breath while she complied and returned to her chair, then asked softly, “How could you do that? Using Raziel’s wish that way. Really, Izzy?”

“What was I supposed to do? Just…tell the Angel it was all a mistake and o go back where he came from, while you were lying there dead?” Her hands twisted in her lap, and she looked as uncertain as he’d ever seen her. “Max was—I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“But at what cost? You know what the Law says about anyone who misuses Raziel’s wish. Mom and I will do what we can to shield you, but if the Clave finds out… Despite being the Inquisitor, Mom’s hands will be tied.”

“But _you’ll_ be alive,” she replied leaning forward in her chair. “And _happy_. You’re happy with Magnus, right? He loves you. He’ll always be there for you.”

“Assuming the Clave doesn’t kill me just to be on the safe side,” he said bluntly.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Izzy snapped.

“Who says I’m joking? Iz, there’s no roadmap for this. A resurrected Shadowhunter—there’s no telling what the consequences could be. Not being able to re-forge my parabatai bond with Jace is just the start.”

Izzy huffed. “You sound like Magnus did that night.”

“Really? Well, he seems to have adapted to the idea. However, I’m still on the fence.”

“What’s to be on the fence about, Alec? You’re _alive_. Whatever else happens, we’ll deal with it. As long as we have you.” She gave him a tight smile and smoothed her skirt over her legs in a gesture so reminiscent of their mother that Alec had to do a double-take. “Besides, Mom’s right. You have work left to do, _good_ work. I talked to Clary about what the Angel said when Valentine summoned him. He outright told Valentine it wasn’t the will of Heaven to eradicate the Downworld. The Nephilim have been moving _away_ from our purpose for centuries. What Max died for, protecting Madzie…you can make that happen.”

“Not if the Seelie Queen has her way.”

“You’ll find a way. It just may take time. Which you have now.” She rose and skirted his desk, kissing the top of his head. “And so do we. I’m going to go check out St. Ambrose and see if Catarina is there. I’ll call Luke and have him meet me there if he can.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus meets with Luke and Raphael to discuss the Downworlder's options, and Alec and Izzy discuss the missing infants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, life continues to suck apace, which means I still haven't managed to top off my chapter queue. Which means this is the last chapter I have available and ready to post. Hopefully I can get more writing done in the next couple weeks, but considering Winter Break is about to begin and the holidays and whatnot...ehhh, don't hold your breath. I will try to get back in the game next month.

Magnus smiled as Raphael stepped through the portal with a cautious glance at the closed curtains before joining Luke in the center of the living room. “Thank you for coming. Drinks?”

Luke shook his head. “I’m on duty soon. We’ll need to make this quick. What’s up?”

“Raphael?” Magnus prompted.

“I’m trying to find a way to get you and your people out of the agreement the Seelie Queen strong-armed you into. The vampires aren’t bound by it since we didn’t take her up on her offer, and Magnus found a temporary workaround—”

“—for which I’m certain the Lady of Faerie is going to attempt to make me pay dearly, sooner or later—”

“—but that doesn’t get us any closer to a treaty that is going to keep our people from war with the Clave if they try to pull another stunt like the tracking chips,” Raphael concluded, giving Magnus a censorious glower for the interruption.

“You think there’s still a danger of that, now that Valentine’s dead and his support within the Clave has been rooted out?” asked Luke, frowning.

Raphael narrowly avoided rolling his eyes and Magnus jumped in before Raphael irritated Luke with his usual derision. 

“ _Some_ of his support within the Clave has been rooted out, but the sentiment that motivated it hasn’t. Consul Malachi’s complicity proves that.”

Luke huffed. “True. Maia told me what he had to say before she and Jace killed him. Valentine’s supporters were trying to rewrite history to suit their rhetoric.”

“Exactly. Without a more…equitable treaty than the Accords, the Clave continues to act as judge, jury, and executioner for the entire Shadow World,” Magnus continued. “With that sort of imbalance, it’s only a matter of time until someone rises up to become the new Valentine.”

“But so far the Seelie Queen has stuck to the deal we made,” Luke pointed out. “She gave our people shelter until the danger had passed. Unless she violates the pact, we can’t accept Alec’s treaty and we can’t negotiate with the Clave.”

“But I can,” Raphael said. “I didn’t accept the deal. So it makes sense for me to take the lead here.”

Luke’s jaw flexed as he considered that for a moment. “How?”

“There’s nothing in our agreement with the Seelie Queen to prevent us from negotiating with _Raphael_ ,” said Magnus. “If he were to offer us a treaty, we’d be within our rights to accept it on behalf of our people. And then Raphael could negotiate with Alec on behalf of the council we formed with him.”

“And he can negotiate with the Clave to try to get formal recognition of the treaty, or at least demand they not interfere with our local affairs,” Raphael concluded. “Meliorn had a point when he said our people are tired of the Nephilim deciding when and how to negotiate. It puts them in a position of power. If the treaty comes from us, it gives us a head-start on dictating terms.”

“When the Downworld tried that back in the 80s, it didn’t go so well,” Luke reminded him. “The Clave likes holding both the carrot and the stick. And I have to admit, my pack’s not gonna love a treaty coming from the vampires. Possibly even less than they love it coming from the Shadowhunters.”

Raphael shrugged. “My clan won’t be thrilled either. But the offer Lightwood made us—”

Magnus cleared his throat loudly and caught another sideways glare from Raphael.

“—The offer _Lightwood-Bane_ made us is the best chance we all have to avoid a war and keep the Clave’s interference out of our local affairs.”

“But we can’t accept his offer,” Luke pointed out.

Raphael pulled the folio he carried out from under his arm and gave the papers within a desultory glance. “True. The treaty has to come from me. But if some provisions of it happen to be _inspired_ by the offer Alec made us… _así es la vida_.”

Luke glanced at Magnus, who shrugged. “The Seelie Queen is perfectly willing to exploit loopholes when it suits her. If the deal she demanded from us leaves us such an opening, why shouldn’t we take it?”

“I’m not against using her own tactics against her, but the fact that she left us such an obvious loophole…doesn’t that feel like a trap to you?”

“I’ve asked myself the same question many times,” Magnus conceded after considering the question for a moment. “Since Alec’s summit, when Meliorn demanded he marry a Downworlder, everything involving the Seelies has felt like tiptoeing through a minefield.”

“That’s what I’m saying. She’s too ancient to be that careless. She has an angle.”

“She wants to rule the entire Downworld,” Raphael said, his face grave as he finally took a seat. “We already know that. She probably had a hand in Kaelie’s murders and the escalating tensions that followed Valentine’s massacre with the Soul Sword. But with Valentine gone, the Soul Sword deactivated, and the Mortal Instruments back in Clave control, so is the sword she was holding over your heads to get you to comply.”

“All excellent points, but if we want to beat her at her game, we need to anticipate what her next move will be,” Magnus replied thoughtfully. “If we form a council to govern local Shadow World affairs, and Raphael invites the Shadowhunters to sit on it on our behalf, what can she do about that? Deprive our people of protection we no longer need, from a threat that no longer exists? Instigate hostilities against the very people she wants to rule? She wants willing allies to help her push the Clave out. Subjugated conquests won’t suffice, so what would fighting us accomplish? How would it help her meet her goal?”

Luke yielded the point with a reluctant shrug. “She could have an ace in the hole. Something we’re not seeing.”

Raphael tipped his head in a slight nod. “She always does. But we can only act on what we know. And right now what we know is that our best hope is allying with the New York Institute.”

Luke chewed on that for a moment, then sighed heavily. “Give me the treaty. I’ll take it to my pack.”

* * *

“It’s definitely not a vampire,” Izzy murmured, leaning close to Alec to watch the video on the tablet Luke had handed them when they’d entered the Jade Wolf. The playback speed of the hospital security footage was slowed to a crawl but not even a single frame showed the tell-tale blur of a vampire speed. “That leaves only creatures who can glamour or use magic to make themselves invisible.”

“Was there any sign of demonic activity when you examined the hospital nursery?” Alec asked.

She shook her head. “None. No odor, no traces of ichor, no heat signature, no signs of corruption or residue of possession on Tim Dempsey’s body. If it was a demon, it was one that leaves nothing behind. Which is pretty much unheard of.”

“Could it be one of Valentine’s altered demons? Like the one that—the one that killed Jocelyn?”

Izzy’s gaze softened as he struggled to acknowledge his own lack of culpability in Jocelyn’s death. “I suppose it’s possible. With the Mortal Cup back under Clave control, no one would command it any longer. Still, it doesn’t seem likely. Even the one that infiltrated the Institute had a heat signature and left ichor behind.”

Alec tapped his finger on the pitted surface of the ugly Formica table. “Which means we’re probably looking for a warlock or a Seelie.” 

“Or a Shadowhunter,” said a voice from the next booth over. Alec twisted to peer over the divider, where Maia sat buried behind a stack of textbooks. She glanced up and scoffed softly. “What, it never occurred to you it could be one of _your_ people?”

“Good point.” Alec tried not to sound grudging as his face ignited. He turned back to Izzy, who appeared a little sheepish as well. “Could we have missed any Circle members?”

“We raided every hideout the few Circle members we managed to capture knew about. As far as we can tell, the last of Valentine’s followers except Jonathan died when Dot sprang her trap and when Jace and Maia neutralized the Consul’s forces in Idris.”

“I really don’t think it could be someone from the Institute. _Not_ just because they’re Shadowhunters,” he said, raising his voice a little, even though Maia didn’t need any help overhearing him. “The motive isn’t there. A demon might do it for the death and destruction. A warlock might do it for spell components. A Seelie might for mischief. But no one from the Institute would have a _reason_ to abduct a mundane infant.”

“Unless the Shadowhunter was working with a warlock in need of specialized spell components,” Izzy added.

“In which case, our best chance of finding whoever took that baby is still to find the warlock,” Alec replied. “Did Catarina have any insight?”

“Only that Tim Dempsey was a saint, and she couldn’t detect any residual magic in the nursery.” Izzy grimaced. “She looked _horrified_ when I asked her about the spell components angle. When I asked what kind of spell might require an infant, she said it would be the darkest sort and that we should hurry.”

The thought of Catarina brought Madzie to mind. “Could the baby be a warlock?” he asked, drumming his fingers on the tabletop again. “Would Catarina have been able to sense that?”

Izzy frowned. “I’m sure she would have said something if she could. What are you thinking?”

“Only that we don’t know how many women Iris Rouse tricked into carrying warlock babies before we shut her operation down. Her ‘patient’ files disappeared when she portaled out of that brownstone.”

“If there are others out there that Leigh didn’t tell us about, they could be giving birth any time now,” she murmured, looking thoughtful.

Alec nodded in agreement. “Say Iris had supporters in the warlock community. They might still want to get their hands on those babies.”

“But wouldn’t it have been easier to do that _after_ the mother took her baby home?” She pondered. “If they’d waited another day or two, they wouldn’t have had to kill anyone, much less in a way that attracted so much attention. They could have simply taken the baby and removed the mother’s memories, the way Iris did with the other women she offered to her demon to be raped.”

“Maybe they were afraid of the baby having a warlock mark someone might notice if they waited that long.”

Izzy bit her lips. “I’ll talk to Luke and Catarina again about that angle, see if the mother reported anything unusual about the baby after she was born.”

“And I’ll talk to Magnus, have him start looking at his people about the spell idea, and also find out if he knows about any recent baby warlocks. As for the Seelies—” he sighed. “The Queen isn’t going to help us track down whoever this is, if it turns out to be one of her people.”

“I could ask Meliorn,” she said, glancing down. “He _has_ been known to help us in defiance of her wishes. At least once or twice. Maybe he’ll decide it’s the right thing to do.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Alec muttered.

“Let’s hope one of the other theories pans out before we have to pursue that possibility.” Izzy’s brow furrowed. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Her gaze dipped to his rapidly drumming fingers again. “Jace tends to be the antsy one, not you.”

He forced his fingers to still. “It’s nothing,” Alec said, shaking his head. “I’m tired. Haven’t been sleeping.”

She smirked. “You just got back from your honeymoon. I would _hope_ you haven’t been sleeping.”

“You and Jace need to get new material,” he retorted as Maia snickered in the next booth.

“Speaking of, have you talked to him since you got back?”

“No. I’m… I don’t know what to say to him. It’s my fault we couldn’t complete the ceremony again.”

Izzy’s head swung back and forth vehemently. “No. You don’t know that.”

“I do. He needs me. He needs that anchor. Without it, I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

“Maybe not having the _parabatai_ bond isn’t such a bad thing,” she said gently, laying a hand on his wrist when he reared back in outrage. “Alec, you and Jace love each other, but lately…” Her lips pressed together and her eyes shimmered for a moment. “Look, being _parabatai_ is supposed to make you stronger, bolster you when you need reinforcement. And it did for you for a long time. Until…”

“Until Clary came into our lives.” He held up a hand to forestall her protest. “I’m not blaming her. She and I have made our peace. But that _is_ when the wheels started to come off. It just is.” 

Izzy looked like she still wanted to argue, but eventually she sighed and nodded. “We’ve all been to a really dark place in the last few months, and it’s no one’s fault, except maybe Valentine’s. And it was getting better but then we lost Max and Dad.”

“Which is why Jace needs me more now than ever before.”

“Does he?” She leaned across the table toward him. “At some point during all the crazy, your bond with Jace became a liability. You kept dragging each other under because neither one of you was fit to pull the other up. And we almost lost _both_ of you. Within the space of a few weeks, you each tried to kill yourselves—or get yourselves killed—multiple times.”

Shame washed over Alec at the reminder, and he bristled before he could stop himself. “You were pretty busy trying to destroy yourself during that time, too.”

If Izzy took offense at him trying to throw the addiction she’d hidden back in her face, she didn’t show it. “You’re right. I was. And I gave up a relationship that was starting to mean a lot of me because we were damaging each other.”

“You really think Jace and I were doing that?”

“I think maybe the reason the ceremony didn’t work is because neither of you are healthy enough _individually_ to be healthy as a bonded pair.”

Alec closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the booth. “You didn’t see his face when the ceremony failed, Izzy. He took it as a rejection.”

“Of course he did. What Jace has always needed, more than anything, is constancy. Someone he knew would always be there, and always want him there and never make Jace doubt he’s worthy of being loved. So yeah, he’s going to think he lost that, and that he’s no longer wanted or needed. You need to convince him it isn’t true.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he confessed, his voice rasping through a throat that was suddenly too tight. “Izzy—”

He wanted to spill the rest of it. The strange numbness that had been encasing him since his resurrection. The fact that he’d barely registered the loss of his bond with Jace—something that he should have considered as vital to his well-being as food or oxygen. He should be missing Jace the way he’d miss an amputated limb, but he was just too tired to care.

He couldn’t bring himself to admit any of that aloud. So instead, he settled for saying, “I don’t know if I can be what he needs anymore.”

“You _can_. You’re still his brother, so _be his brother._ Make sure he knows that he doesn’t need to be your _parabatai_ to still be part of this family. Pull each other out of the darkness, without the bond creating that…destructive feedback loop.”

“Do you think we might ever get back to a place where we can try again?” Alec asked wistfully.

“Maybe. You both have a wider support system now than you did before.” She grinned and raised her voice a little on that last bit, looking past Alec’s shoulder to the booth where Maia sat. “Give yourselves time to grieve for Max—and Dad—and get back to a healthy place.”

“What about you?” Alec leaned in closer, dropping his voice. “Are you getting back to a healthier place?”

“I haven’t gone prowling in any bleeder dens.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “But it’s hard. Every time I think of Max, and what Jonathan did to us, I want a bite so much I can barely stand it.”

“Are those mundane meetings you said Simon recommended helping?”

“Well, I’ve barely started, but I’m going every day. The one day at a time thing helps. Staying clean forever is too big a burden. I just need to get through _today_ without a bite. Tomorrow I’ll worry about staying clean tomorrow.”

He laid a hand on her forearm, squeezing gently. “You know I’m here if you need anything.”

“I know.” A shudder ran through her, shaking he arm beneath his hand. “I should probably get to a meeting. Even just talking about it makes it harder.”

“Do what you have to do.” Alec pulled back and straightened his shoulders. “Don’t worry about speaking to Luke or Catarina. I’ll take care of that. You take care of you.”

She swallowed and nodded, then slid quickly out of the booth. He watched her go with a troubled frown, then picked up the tablet and went to find Luke.


End file.
